


Cinnamon French Toast

by crayonmen



Series: Dayshift at Freddy's [2]
Category: Dayshift At Freddy's
Genre: M/M, also this story sh o r t (YEET), as usual, did i even spell aggro right, genuine r a g e, gn y'all i'm going to be d, hopefully it's ok lol, i tried to make this fic as good as possible, k e k, mike is aggro as usual, only like once, simon is sh y, slight mention of dave and old sport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonmen/pseuds/crayonmen
Summary: a cute little gift for Lucario bc i love her stories :^)
Relationships: Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt (Five Nights at Freddy's)
Series: Dayshift at Freddy's [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911463
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	Cinnamon French Toast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucario/gifts).



> Y E E T

///

mike and simon cook french cinnamon toast together--because a w e s o m e n e s s

fyi all characters are from Lucario's AMAZING DSaF AU THAT I LOVE WITH ALL THE PASSION IN MY HEART--so all credit (and kudos) goes to them :')

git gud mikey

///

"O-Oh, hey Mike! Wait up for a minute!"

Mike whipped around, blinking once, twice, about to scream at whoever it was until he realized it was..Simon.

"Uh..hey, Simon...do you need anything? Did those crayon fucks bother you or something?" Mike questioned, his anger flaring up again. "If they did, I'm going two beat the fucking shit out of them--"

Simon's phone gave a small, silent ring. "Mike, no, they didn't--they didn't do anything. Not yet. Are you okay? You seem a little..overprotective today."

"What the fuck--NO, I AM NOT FUCKING OVERPROTECTIVE. I JUST HATE THOSE FUCKS OKAY? JESUS." Mike's face flushed, furrowing his brows and turning away from Simon. Simon would have smiled if he could. "..Yeaahhhhh, sure. A-anyway, I wanted to ask you something today." Simon felt his thumbs twiddle unconsciously, "It's something that, well, I saw something on this TV show--and I thought thaattt, maybe, we could..make it together?.." Simon "coughed" into a fist, "We--we don't have to! It's just I think it would be fun--"

Mike cut him off in the midst of his rant after calming down a little, "What is this thing that you.."want to make"? Is it like, some fucking DIY thing? I'm not good at arts n' crafts, i have to warn you as a precaution--it might become a fucking disaster."

Simon shook his head, "Oh, no, it's not anything really DIY-ish, it's something related to cooking. Cooking doesn't really require anything unless you decorate it--"

"Simon--I'm not that good at cooking either. Most things I try to do fucking fail, I'm not exactly talented." said Mike, but Simon only sighed. "You have plenty of talent, Mike. All you have to do is..put it to the test! Yo-you can't just try it a few times, fail, and then call it quits!"

Mike was exhausted, not really feeling like doing any stupid cooking today, "Since when'd you become a fucking motivational speaker, Simon? You don't wanna cook with me. I will burn your house down once I even look at the goddamn stove!" he groaned, Mike really doesn't WANT to disappoint Simon, but..

"Mike, please? I--I really want to do something with you. We never get to have any fun, we're always wrangling Dave and Old Sport so they don't put cocaine in the pizza sauce. P-please?" Simon begged, almost pouting if he had a face at all..

Ah, goddamnit. Mike couldn't resist. "Fucking FINE, We'll cook whatever it is. BUT, you have to help me, goddamnit." Mike rolled his eyes at how easy it was for Simon to convince him. He was getting soft, damn it. Simon seemed to light up at his words, his shoulders having stopped slugging and hushing a 'phew' under his "breath". "We should go to my place. I already bought all the ingredients with what I managed to scrape together!"

Mike gave him the 'are you fucking kidding me' look as soon as he said that. "You BOUGHT the ingredients when you weren't even fucking sure I would say YES?" Mike dug a hole for himself already, this..cyborg man..

"Uh......yes?"

Mike mentally, and then physically facepalms. He looks around for a quick second, daggering the entire room like a scanner to watch for any socially-inept crayon-people or dangerous, weirdo fucking animatronics. Mike's face flushed a deep, deep maroon red before he pulled in Simon for a small side-hug, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. "You're lucky I fucking love you, Simon." He mumbled, quiet as could be.

Simon couldn't be more flustered.

He said..he--he said the L word!

AT WORK!

ETERNAL SCREAMING!!!--

///

"Okay, so--first we crack two eggs in, okay? We can make three slices of bread that way. Only one if you want two."

Simon tapped the egg against the edge of the counter three exact times, a small series of cracks before he brought it back to the bowl and split it. "Make sure you don't leave any eggshell particles in there, or you're gonna have one stab you in the mouth later..atleast, YOU will."

Mike was listening VERY, VERY INTENTLY. He was actually interested in what Simon had to say, meanwhile regular cooking shows bored the fuck out of him..maybe it was because Simon was so close to him..it felt nice..

Ah, fuck, the softness!

IT BURNNSSSS!

"Mike? Mike, are you listening?"

Mike snapped out of it, blinking twice, "Uh, yeah. Crack an egg, don't leave eggshell particles or you'll regret it." Mike parroted, which left a metaphorical smile on Simon's face. "Yeah! I-I'm glad you're listening--it's so nice to do something with you." Simon chatted just a bit there, but eventually got back to what he was doing. "Anyway.."

Simon brought out a fork, "Now, kinda just mix the eggs. Or, well, mix the yolk so it blends with the other stuff. Then it'll mix properly--or, that's what I heard." He brought the fork to the bowl, kinda flicking the yolk around the bowl for a good minute, the yellow balls spinning rapidly before he gave it a rest, having mixed them thoroughly enough. He clicked off the remainder of what was on the fork into the bowl, putting the fork into the sink. "Now, all you have to do is get the vanilla--" Simon reached for the cabinet, grunting a little. He threw open the cabinet door, snatching the pure vanilla, opening it.

"Now, pour the vanilla in. About..however much you want, I didn't really listen to that part. I'm only putting in a little so it's a light, light, very light brown." Simon opens the box, fishing out the vanilla bottle. Popping off the cap, he pours it in.

Simon mixes it that time aswell, waiting until it became the precise color he wanted. "Alright, now, I want you to try doing it, Mike. Just, uh, take it from here." Simon moves over to his breadbox, taking out the bread and untwisting the bag. Taking out a few slices, he hands them to Mike. Simon chooses to ignore the way their fingers touched for a moment, repressing the urge to jump back as if he'd touched fire. "Okay, so..cake the bread in the mixture there, and once you have one done, put it in the pan, (I already added butter so it won't stick,) and do the same for the next two."

Mike gives a nod, carefully putting in the bread once, watching the bread soak the fluids up, and then laid it down into the top right side of the pan. Simon felt..proud.

He did the same the other two times, and was given a spatula thrusted into his hands immediately after. "Okay--so, now all you have to do is..wait and flip them." Simon gestured to the pan, giving a small smile. "This is..really fun, actually."

Mike rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I guess so. It's not that bad..I haven't actually burned it yet." Mike flips the bread onto its side, "So, just wait for it to cook?"

Simon nods.

"Well, fuck."

///

Mike carefully put the slices of lightly toasted french toast onto the plate, stacking them like a tower.

"Now, we add cinnamon, I'll say. This is only optional--but the cooking show said it adds taste." Simon reaches for the open cabinet, swooping his hand back into the cabinet again, feeling for the cinnamon.

Gosh darnit, where is--

He felt something push forward with his hand, to which he grasped it, pulling it downwards and opening it right after. "It's a little sweet.." Simon hands over the cinnamon to Mike, "so you can choose how much you want."

Mike looks at the cinnamon, then the french toast, and gives no fucks.

He pours drizzles of cinnamon amongst the toasted bread, he can already taste himself coughing on this fucking shit--

Simon is lighting up like a damn christmas tree, though, so he deals with it.

He closes the cap once he's finished, but Simon already brought something else out once he looked back at him. Powdered sugar.

"Uhh, so-some of this too."

Mike sighs, before taking a pinch of the powdered sugar too, doing the same as before.

Simon nods approvingly, his metallic eyebrows raised just a tad..

"Okay, I think we're finished." Simon nearly jumps for joy. Thank fucking god they're done, he was close to ruining this whole dish for him by accidentally adding too much damn powdered sugar--Mike nearly wipes the sweat off his goddamn brow.

"Well? Let's fucking taste this shit." Mike suggests, (a little crudely,) bringing out two fork and knives from the counter cabinet. 

Simon (again, metaphorically) smiles anyway, looking back at the finished product, which looked amazing (at least to him) by the way, and then back to Mike's gentle eyes. God, he's so lucky to have the man.

He takes a fork and knive out of one of Mike's hands, absolutely ready to try it.

Simon sits down with Mike, scooting closer to the table.

Taste testing time!

///

Mike chewed on the slice he'd taken from the french toast and swallowed, exhaling softly through his nose. "It's..fine. Not bad, not good."

Simon's head slouched down, "Ah, jeez, sorry, Mike..I think I added too much sugar."

Mike shakes his head, "No, it wasn't your fault..I actually just overcooked the fucking thing a little. It's okay." Mike chews on another bite, swallowing beforehand and then continuing. "Thanks, Simon. I..actually enjoyed this. Usually I hate fucking everything, but this was the thing I least hated out of all of them."

Simon was a little embarrassed, he was usually never complimented, and by Mike himself? A whole other level. It felt odd, how lovey dovey they could be. It almost felt..normal.

Maybe if Freddy's didn't exist, he didn't have a phone for a head, people from The Factory not constantly on him for every little thing they did and no one bothering them and if every single mistake he's made never happened--they could be normal as they wanted to be.

Love was a very, very weird thing.

So is cooking.

"Thanks for doing this with me, Mike." Simon muttered, just a little, but still enough for Mike to be able to hear. Mike is tired of him apologizing, really. "Oh for fucks sake, it's okay. Just, fucking ASK ME when you wanna do something, and I'll..I'll do it with you." Mike is flustered for the thousandth time today, giving a sigh.

Simon nods, before closing in to give Mike a hug.

Mike is slightly alarmed, for a moment, but pulls Simon closer, putting his chin over the phone-part-thingy.

He gives a small kiss, which has both of them blushing now.

Mike pulls away, "THAT WAS FUCKING STUPID. NEVER AGAIN. CHRIST." Mike practically shrieks, staring at the ground with rage. (And embarrassment, BUT HE'LL NEVER FUCKING TELL ANYONE THAT--)

Simon only shakes his head and laughs.

Time to watch more cooking shows, he supposes.

Definitely a LOT more.

///

**Author's Note:**

> hope this wasn't too ooc--thanks for reading!!
> 
> also excuse any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes oof


End file.
